


Once More, With Fairies

by Lexalicious70



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Brakebills cursed, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 14:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20694734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexalicious70/pseuds/Lexalicious70
Summary: A group of hedges cast a spell over Brakebills with stolen fairy magic, turning it into a fairytale land. Can our hero, Quentin Coldwater, (along with a familiar cast of characters,) decipher all the musical clues given to him as he quests across campus to save Prince Eliot, who has been spirited away and locked up in the bell tower?





	Once More, With Fairies

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Whitespire’s Armory, Round 8, “Music.” I don’t own The Magicians, this is just for fun. Comments and kudos are magic, dear readers and, as always, enjoy!

# Once Upon a Time . . .

There was a magical place called Brakebills, where young people from all over the world came to practice magic. It was a wonderous place full of Poppers and potions, of daunting deeds and personal discoveries. Those who called it home protected its secrets ands guarded its borders. But alas, Brakebills was not impenetrable: a group of hedge witches, jealous of the magic given to the students of Brakebills, stole fairy magic and placed a curse on the land and on those who lived there.

Thus it was that Quentin Coldwater, magician, awoke from slumber and found himself at the center of a land that was no longer a place of learning, but a fairytale land of danger and mystery. As he rose from his bed and pulled back the curtain to reveal an expanse of land occupied by thick forests, a rambling hedge maze and, in the far distance, a lofty stone tower, its peak obscured by low clouds, he wished to understand his purpose in this place that seemed familiar yet was no longer his home. Music swelled from a place he couldn’t pinpoint and he began to sing:

_O what is this, o’er my land there’s a curtain, _

_O yes of this, I’m quite certain, _

_But tell me, what can it be? _

_My magic, it seems, is still with me, _Quentin sang as he raised his hands at chest level and created a mini sun, which revolved around his head as he continued his song, an expression of mild confusion in his dark eyes. _But tell me, o Gods, I prithee, am I a hero or fool? _

“You’ll be a flipping fool!” Margo broke in as she pushed his door open. She was dressed in a simple white homespun shirt, a brown leather vest, breeches, and leather boots. Her long hair streamed over her petite shoulders. “A flipping—a freakin’—oh Gods, don’t tell me I’m not allowed to swear? What the heavens—” She scowled and crossed the room and Quentin turned to her.

_Margo can it be, _

_that everything we see, is not truly what is meant to be? _

Margo’s scowl deepened even as she sang back to him.

_Oh, something isn’t right, _

_We have to stand and fight! _

_It will do no good to flee . . . _

She took Quentin’s hand and began to tug him out of the room, and Quentin blinked as he saw himself in the mirror. He wore a blue jerkin over a white cotton shirt, a long dark green cloak, knee-length trousers tucked into brown leather boots. His tawny hair was tied up in a cockernonnie at the base of his neck. More song bubbled up his throat and he swallowed them back down as Margo led him down the cottage stairs and out the door.

“Wait, where are we going?” He asked, and Margo motioned to two horses she had waiting there.

“Where do you think? To the Wizard Fogg! He may know a way to free Prince Eliot!” She swung up onto her horse, a prancing palomino, and Quentin felt compelled to follow. He climbed up onto his mount, a bay with four white stockings, and glanced back at the foreboding tower in the distance.

“Prince Eliot . . .”

“Yes! Prince Eliot the Forlorn, formerly the Prince of the Land of Brakebills!” Margo kneed her horse into a brisk walk. “We have to find a way to free him before the sun sets on the third day of his imprisonment, or we’ll all become slaves of the one who took him!”

Quentin settled himself in the saddle, experienced the unpleasant sensation of being strangled by his own cloak, then rose up long enough to pull it out from under himself as he adjusted its ties. His horse blew out in what almost sounded like amusement. Margo glanced over her shoulder.

“Come on! We don’t have much time!”

***

The Wizard Fogg lived in a cavern made of obsidian. Because he rarely saw the light, he wore dark glasses that shielded his eyes from all angles, the posts made of thin, curved metal. He stood inside the mouth of his glossy cavern, frowning as he watched Quentin and Margo approach.

“I knew you’d come,” he said to them as they left their horses in a nearby copse of trees. Quentin gave the stocky dark-skinned man a respectful bow.

“You know about the curse?”

“Any fool can see that things are not as they were.” Fogg led them into the cavern, where he consulted a large book that laid open on a glittering table. As he turned a page, Quentin saw the pages were made from thin sheets of obsidian. “Even a fool such as you.”

“That hardly seems fair,” Quentin muttered to Margo, who lifted a shoulder in weak solidarity. Fogg flipped another page and adjusted the leather hat he wore. The pointed tip sagged one way, then another, as he shifted it around on his bald pate.

“Sometimes a fool can be an unlikely hero!” Fogg looked up from the book as musical notes began to swirl from the pages. Margo groaned.

“Oh, bull dung, not again,” she said as a rather jaunty tune formed and Fogg began an impromptu dance, his hat nodding from side to side as he began to sing.

_If you listen closely to my story, _

_You’re sure to find an allegory, _

_Cos that’s what fairy tales are all about! _

_Where a fool or a clumsy zero _

_Can transform into a shining hero! _Fogg interrupted himself long enough to touch a willow wand to a lump of obsidian, which forms itself into a statue of Quentin in a heroic pose. Quentin reached out to touch it, only to have Fogg whack his wrist with the wand.

_But this not be as easy as it seems . . . _He led Quentin and Margo to the mouth of the cave and pointed toward the distant tower, where the low clouds began to flicker with blue light.

_Mark that glow around the tower, _

_It comes from a terrible magic power! _

_Tis no dragon or hellhound sniffin’—no! _

_What guards the fair prince is a Niffin! _

_Be brave, young Fool, and face her icy stare . . . _

“Wait what—me?” Quentin asked as Fogg pointed at him with one long finger. “It can’t be me! I’m a fool, not a hero! You said so yourself!”

The Wizard Fogg sighed and glanced over at Margo.

“Did I sing-stutter?” He asked before grasping a handful of Quentin’s hair and turning him back toward the obsidian statue. “This is what you can become, if you are brave enough to pursue it! Now go, across the Verdant Sea and into the hedge maze beyond. Seek out the Wise Woman, for only she can tell you how to defeat the Niffin!”

“Why can’t you tell me?” Quentin asked, and Fogg ushered them out of the cave.

“Sorry Quentin, only one expositional song per minor character.” A seal slammed shut behind him and Margo, and she scowled over her shoulder.

“I’m guessing that’s a fourth wall.” She put her hands on her hips. “So now what?”

“You heard Fogg. We have to ride through the Verdant Sea and into the hedge maze to find the wise woman.”

“How in a frog’s rear are we supposed to even know what she looks like?”

“Maybe we’ll just know.” Quentin brought their horses and he swung up into the saddle. “Sometimes even a fool like me gets lucky.”

***

“This isn’t much of a way to make a living.”

Penny the Thief glanced up as partner spoke. Kady the Highwayman was scowling over a small pot of gruel, a long, thin blade tucked into her belt catching the light as she added an anemic carrot to the mix. Penny scoffed.

“Course it’s not. No one ever comes through here. But since we’re as lost as anyone else here, might as well lay claim to it.”

Kady stood and stretched. Her linen breeches, leather boots and homespun shirt and vest did nothing to detract from her beauty. Wild, brunette curls broke over her shoulders like ocean waves on jagged rocks.

“There’s—” She paused and cocked her head. “Listen! Someone’s coming!” She leapt into the nearest hedge, dragging Penny with her. He made an indignant sound of protest but went silent as two riders came around the corner of the passageway.

“Look!” Quentin reined his horse to a stop. Margo frowned at the tiny soup pot bubbling away.

“It’s a little late to be introducing leprechauns into the story, isn’t it?”

“Halt!” Penny called as he emerged from the hedge with Kady, who drew her knife. Quentin’s horse tossed its head in offense and nearly knocked him senseless from his saddle with the arch of its neck. Quentin felt his forehead for signs of blood and blinked at the two thieves.

“We’re halted. Who are you?”

“We’re highwaymen! Hand over all your valuables!” Penny snapped. Margo scoffed.

“Do we look like we have any valuables? We’re not exactly traveling royalty.”

“Then we’ll take those horses,” Kady countered, and Quentin shook his head.

“I can’t let you do that. We’re on our way to the Stone Tower to free Prince Eliot and believe me, if you don’t let us go, you’re going to regret it. We’ll all be slaves of the Niffin who guards him if I don’t face her!”

“You?” Penny asked, his dark eyes narrowing before he snorted a laugh. “You look like you couldn’t find your chamber pot in broad daylight!”

“At least I’m not some thief cooking dirt soup in a hedge maze.”

“Wait, hold up,” Kady interrupted. “Are you serious? Will everyone in Brakebills become slaves if you don’t defeat the Niffin and free Prince Eliot?”

“We’re searching for the Wise Woman right now,” Quentin nodded. “Only she knows the Niffin’s weakness.”

“Better a thief than a slave,” Kady said to Penny, who rolled his eyes but nodded as she threw both arms in the air and then brought them down to point at Quentin and Margo as a hard-driving musical beat rose from the hedges around them and she began to sing:

_The life of a thief, well it’s filled with pain! _

_Waiting on a score in the snow and the rain! _

_Scrabblin’ for a meal when your coppers are low, _

_And runnin’ from the law, the noose and the bow! _

_But let me tell you, boy, the price that we pay, _

_Means runnin’ our own lives and finding our way, _

_Free from the hoe, the axe and the plow, _

_Livin for the here, the day and the now! _

_So let’s make a trade, I swear I’ll be true! _

_I don’t wanna be slave, and neither do you. _

_The Wise Woman lives nearby, and I’ll take you there, _

_For the price of a pie, a roast or a hare! _

_Bring us some food and I’ll show you the way, _

_Cos we can’t live on this gruel another day! _

Kady kicked over the pot as she sang the last word and it went spiraling off into the hedge. She looked up at Quentin, her green eyes flashing.

“Deal?” She asked, and Quentin hesitated.

“Do I have to sing my answer, or . . .”

“We’re all gonna be slaves,” Penny muttered, and Kady shook her head.

“Just yes or no.”

“Deal, yes,” Quentin replied. “We only have another day or so before all of this becomes permanent. Margo, will you go hunting while Kady takes me to the wise woman? Penny can catch you up after you bring them a deer or some hare.”

“Fine,” Margo replied as she unslung her crossbow and eyed Penny from her saddle. “You’re not going to sing at me, are you?”

“If I break out in song, just use that bow on me, _please,_” Penny replied as she pulled him up behind her and they trotted off in search of game. Quentin offered Kady his hand and she sprung up with almost no assistance. As they headed west, toward the setting sun, the blue lights at the crest of the Stone Tower grew brighter.

***

Julia the Wise was a petite, freckled woman with knowing, sad eyes that made Quentin homesick for a place he couldn’t recall or perhaps had only visited. She lived in a neat, two-room cottage on the far side of the hedge maze. A natural pond the size of a large wagon wheel occupied one corner of the main room of the cottage and, to Quentin’s bemusement, was occupied by a bespectacled talking koi fish that interrupted constantly until Julia tossed it chunks of fresh bread.

“The Niffin is all powerful and wishes to rule all of Brakebills,” Julia told Quentin and Kady as she sat cups of herbal tea in front of each of them. “But under that is a deeper spell, I fear. One I cannot quite touch.”

“The Wizard Fogg said you would know how to defeat the Niffin,” Quentin said, sipping his tea.

“Yes. There is an amulet that will make her human again.” Julia went to the cottage window and gazed across the land at the tower.

_True love lies trapped on high, _she sang,

_Alone and frightened in the tower_

_And only you, Fool, have the power to set it free. _

“True—what?” Quentin asked, but Julia continued her song.

“_Prince Eliot is dreaming, _

_Bound in the Niffin’s spell, _

_Forlorn, his magic teeming_

_With hexes and dark magic rare . . . _

As she sang, Julia crossed the room with measured, almost dancing steps and opened a cupboard that was well warded. She then withdrew a silver amulet from its depths, the edge gilded with blue crystal.

“This will bring the Niffin back to her human state. Inside is magic that she will not be able to resist. You must see that she touches it, Quentin. Only then will the spell come to life.” She touched his face.

_“Do not deny what you feel, _

_For without it we are lost, _

_Bring Prince Eliot to life with your kiss, _

_Or our freedom is the cost.” _

“And she doesn’t mean a kiss like you’re greeting your grannie!” The bespectacled koi chimed in. “Really lay one on him, taste him like you mean it—ooh!” The koi interrupted itself to nip at a few fresh chunks of bread Julia tossed it from her apron pocket. Quentin put the amulet around his neck and bowed to the wise woman even as his head spun with her revelation.

***

Penny and Margo rejoined Quentin and Kady outside the exit of the hedge maze, about half a day’s ride from the Stone Tower.

“I have to go alone from here,” Quentin told them. “The rest of the quest is mine to complete alone—only I can awaken Prince Eliot and turn the Niffin human.”

“You really are a fool,” Penny scoffed, but then his expression softened. “I hope you make it.”

Margo kissed him on the cheek. “Good luck—and please, fix this before I end marrying some tinker out of sheer boredom!”

“I’ll do my best.” Quentin swung up onto his horse and headed toward the tower. The unlikely trio watched him ride off, Margo’s horse loaded with fresh game for the thieves, and Margo sighed.

“We’ll all be bound to make the beast with two backs if that’s not good enough.”

***

The Stone Tower crackled with blue light that made the hair on Quentin’s arms stand at attention. His horse planted its feet as they reached the gates and Quentin swung down, frowning.

“Some hero’s horse you are! Fine . . . stay out here then!” He crossed the open gate’s threshold and a furious screech went up all around him. “Oh, dung balls,” Quentin muttered, touching the amulet as he ventured into the tower and began to climb the steps. The moaning and angry noises grew louder with each turn of the winding staircase, and then the blue light was all around him, twisting and curling like a furious snake. Quentin teetered on the edge of the narrow stone step he occupied as a face rose out of the light—a beautiful face framed with crackling blonde hair and furious eyes filled with a malignant topaz light. The mouth dropped open in a fierce shriek and Quentin willed himself not to cringe as he fumbled the amulet out from under his shirt.

“Niffin!” He called. “It is I, Quentin the Fool! I bring you a gift!”

“Pathetic worm!” The Niffin hissed, curling around him until Quentin could feel the untamed magic sparking against his skin. “I accept no gifts! I take what I want, when it pleases me!” The coil tightened. “I will crack your bones open and drink the magic from them as easily as you drain a cup of water!”

_She’s going to kill me_, Quentin thought as he lost half his air. _I don’t have a chance, unless . . . _

“It’s—just as well!” Quentin wheezed out. “The gift is a puzzle that I doubt you even have the skill to open!”

The Niffin paused and brought Quentin up to her eye level, her beautiful, awful visage filling his vision.

“What did you say, worm?”

“The gift!” He managed to get one hand free to hold up the amulet. “Only the wisest of creatures can reap its rewards. None yet have been able to open it, but if you don’t think you can either . . .” He began to drop the amulet back under his shirt when the Niffin ripped it free and dropped him on the stone steps.

“There is no magic I cannot control, Fool!” She snarled, closing her hands around the amulet. It lit up from the blue edges inward, light spiraling down toward the center until it broke open and showered the Niffin with a copious shower of hot, crispy bacon.

“The cured meat of the hog!” She cried even as she scooped sizzling pieces of it into her mouth. “No, I cannot resist . . . NOOOO!”

Quentin watched, his eyes wide, as the blue light faded from her form and she shrunk down into a pale blonde human. She blinked at him as she sagged down onto the tower’s steps.

“Where am I?” She murmured, and Quentin got to his feet.

“I’m not sure how to answer that. But, uhm—just stay here and—” Quentin gave a vague gesture as he bolted up the tower steps, leaving the girl to lick bacon grease off her fingers.

Quentin climbed three more floors before he found Prince Eliot laying on a plush couch, his dark, curly hair spread out across a white pillow embroidered with purple flowers. His chest rose and fell in even breaths, causing the gauzy aubergine shift he wore to give a mild flutter every few moments. Quentin’s heart answered that flutter.

“Do not deny what you feel . . . bring Prince Eliot to life with your kiss,” Quentin sang the line softly as he went to one knee and touched Eliot’s smooth cheek. His lips were parted just enough to make Quentin want to meet them with his own, as he’d wanted to—when? Another lifetime? Yes, one he could barely remember, yet the desire was still there. He lowered his head and claimed Eliot’s lips, kissing him with a firm, coaxing pressure until Eliot’s eyes fluttered open. Quentin pulled back, their lips parting with a soft _pop, _and light filled Eliot’s amber eyes as the fairytale spell collapsed all around them.

***

_Two Days Later _

“I still can’t believe we all had to sing to get out of that mess.”

Eliot looked up from the bar that ran along one side of the Physical Kids cottage as Margo spoke.

“You all got to sing!” He pouted as he mixed her a drink. “I was just the damsel in distress!”

“And a fine damsel you were.” Margo got to her feet and accepted her drink as Quentin came down the steps. She winked at Eliot. “Here comes your fool.” She vanished down the hall with her glass, and Quentin paused at the bottom of the stairs.

“Uhm . . . hey, El.”

“Hi. Want a drink?”

“Yeah—wine, I guess.” He sat down on the couch and watched Eliot fill two glasses, which he brought over.

“So . . .” he handed a glass of pink merlot to Quentin. “That whole spell issue. Fogg said it was cast by a group of hedges that had gotten hold of a chunk of fairy magic.” He sipped his wine. “Jealousy is such an ugly thing.”

“Well, we managed to work it out,” Quentin replied. Eliot nodded and swirled his wine around a moment.

“Q . . . you said Alice was a Niffin?”

“Yeah. She was the thing that guarded you in what I guess is the campus bell tower.”

“Why do you figure she was the guardian and not your damsel? Why . . . do you think it was me?”

Quentin considered this and then slid over until there was little space left between them. Eliot watched, his expression surprised but delighted underneath.

“That’s the thing about magic, El. Even when it turns reality upside down, there’s just some truths it can’t change.” He leaned in and touched his lip’s to Eliot’s, and Eliot’s sable eyelashes swept closed at the kiss. When Quentin pulled back, Eliot opened his eyes to find the younger magician smiling at him.

“What truth?” He asked, and Quentin kissed him again, his lips sticky sweet and delicious.

“That even curses understand ‘and they lived happily ever after.’”

** _FIN _ **


End file.
